


Hands

by Hansotsi (Karmula)



Series: Hanna Week 2014 [8]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, F/M, Hands, Hanna Week (Disney), Minor Anna/Hans (Disney), Non-Explicit Sex, Self-Acceptance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2020-12-13 23:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21005852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karmula/pseuds/Hansotsi
Summary: Originally written for Hanna Week 2014, filling no prompt in particular, exploring a friend's interest in hands and how they might contribute to Hans' journey to self-acceptance - or maybe just being less of an asshole. Edited and reuploaded in 2019.





	Hands

His hands are large, broad, the width of them easily engulfing Anna’s tiny waist and spanning her breasts completely, swallowing them whole as he cups them. They are thick-fingered, nothing like the elegant pianist’s fingers his twelve older brothers were all graced with. This used to annoy him, but he has grown used to it, and, after all, he has the gloves now.

Another difference between him and his brothers: he has never worked a single day in his entire Godforsaken life. As the forgotten thirteenth, the twelfth damn spare, there was never any pressure upon him (apart from, of course, that which he placed upon himself), and consequently his hands are creamy, like buttermilk, and soft and smooth as silk. He hates them, for they are woman’s hands – but his lovers have always seemed to take to them, and with enthusiasm.

They have noted the light spray of freckles across his knuckles, and that lonesome darker one at the base of his left thumb that has always frustrated him.

They have loved the warmth and softness of his palms, arching their backs to nestle their breasts more fully into them and crying out at the very sensation.

They have noticed the way the bones in his fingers pull at the ligaments, gliding gracefully beneath the skin with a course as smooth and effortless as the prow of a ship cutting through water.

They have traced their fingers, their lips, their tongues over the bluish veins that branch across the backs of his hands, raised slightly above the skin.

They have moaned as he slipped each thick digit into the warm, wet rose between their thighs, called out his name and scratched at his back as they climaxed, his fingers curling deep inside of them.

They have loved every tiny little thing about these hands that he has hated, and yet still he cannot believe them, cannot bring himself to think that maybe, just _maybe_ they are beautiful.

But as he watches his hands, pale and glowing silver in the moonlight, span Anna’s body with new-found strength and confidence, he thinks that perhaps, one day, with this woman beside him, he could.


End file.
